


The Tractor

by Fuzzydemolitionsquad



Category: Star Wars: Rebels
Genre: Cousins, Down on The Farm, Gen, lasats - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-05
Updated: 2020-08-05
Packaged: 2021-03-06 04:08:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 10,044
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25737052
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fuzzydemolitionsquad/pseuds/Fuzzydemolitionsquad
Summary: Zeb Orrelios is on leave from the Amethyst City Military Academy. He spends some time with his relatives down on the farm, including his zany cousin Puggles Trodd. Together, they search for the perfect parts to fix Pa Trodd's ailing tractor.
Comments: 1
Kudos: 1





	1. The Tractor part One

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first story on AO3. Yay!
> 
> I've had a long love affair with Star Wars alien species and the lasat have been the subjects of my interest for six years now. It all started with Zeb then I discovered Puggles Trodd and I was hooked. Soon after, an entire family had spawned in my brain. 
> 
> Authors note- I feel like I should put this here. The accent within the Trodd's speech is a highly ramped-up, campy version of a southern United States accent. It is not a truly accurate depiction of the varied Appalachian tongue I love so much. So in short, my intent here is not to hurt anyone’s feelings or be disrespectful. 
> 
> I like to imagine that the southern lasats are the relatives of lasats who left Lira-san with a group of humans (Maybe from Earth?) who are much like (or are) the Appalachian people from states like Kentucky, North Carolina, West Virginia and Tennessee. Anyway, I love these crazy characters more than I should. Zeb Orrelios, Puggles Trodd, (not canon?) anoobas, landspeeders, tookas and GNK droids belong to the Disney peoples. (Thought I wish Puggles was minnnnnneee.)
> 
> I want to thank Findswoman for beta reading this for me. Thank you, thank you!!!! I know going through this was a lot of work.

It was morning. The sun had just peeked over the humped and misty ridges of evergreen trees in the distance. The air was already beginning to warm and the humidity was high. A rusty GNK droid plodded across the farmstead’s dirt yard, its pace much slower than its maker had programmed it to be.

The GNK tried to ignore the condensation building on its circuit boards. It made a deep gonking groan and tilted its boxy body toward the sky. How dreary it was to simply waddle around a farmstead, looking for something in need of power. 

Why couldn’t I have been a spaceship, a sleek X-wing, or a roaring TIE? It thought to itself.

The sky beckoned. The GNK sighed.

Its dream suddenly ceased to be when a circuit in its electronic brain crackled. Sense of duty restored, the GNK marched toward a shed containing the chooken brooder. There, behind a wall of woven wire, a passel of fuzzy, powder-blue chicks snuggled together for warmth. The cord to their heater box was unplugged and frayed, most likely the work of some pesky varmint. GNK plugged a pronged service arm into the box and powered down to fifty-percent so that it could rest. 

And dream.

***

Pa Trodd stepped out of the farmhouse’s door and stood on the porch drinking his morning caf. He snapped his suspenders and looked at the large and formidable anooba laying upside down on her back and staring back at him.

“Whadda yew say ol’ Gracie. . . wanna hep me till that quarter acre fer ma’s garden?”

Gracie’s tail thumped the porch’s wood planks so hard that mice sprang from the knot holes. The anooba stood up, stretched and trotted over to where Pa was standing.

“Thas my girl.” The big brown lasat thumped her side and scratched her ears.”When we iz done I’ll give ya a nice big soup bone anna plate a kalgow jowls for breakfast. Howzzat sound?”

The anooba’s brushy black and tan mane quivered. Pa stepped off the porch, slapped his thigh and whistled. Gracie galloped to his side, her tongue lolling and her toothsome jaws clacking. She gently took his wrist into her mouth and followed him to the barn where the old tractor sat.

***

Garazeb Orrelios opened his eyes, stared up at the ceiling and smiled. Finally, he was back home. 

It wasn’t that he didn’t love the barracks at the academy. On the contrary. All of his best mates were there. He chuckled as he thought of serious Geezer who–though he didn’t look like it– had connections to the owners of every dive cantina and strip parlor in the Capitol.

Zeb checked his chrono on the nightstand and jumped out of bed. The delicious aroma of bacon and maize-bread, fried eggs and beans tugged at his nostrils like a farmer leading a hammerhead bull by the nose-ring. Being away on leave meant Ma’s home cooking and lots of it. It wasn’t uncommon for Zeb to put on fifteen or twenty pounds during his stays with his family. Of course, it was all converted to muscle. Zeb thought of the academy. If it was one thing he didn’t like there, it was Private Rrazchow’s breakfast special, a plate of jellied meat chunks, floating in greasy gravy and served over a couple of seriously dry ‘biscuits’. Zeb and his mates affectionately referred to the entree as ‘dung on a rock.’

Zeb looked into the full length mirror and couldn’t help but smile. His stripes were growing a deeper purple, a nice contrast to the pale lavender of his base coat. His beard was darker too, and a lot thicker than it was the last time he was home.

“Looking good.” He pointed into the mirror with both index fingers and made a clicking sound with his tongue. Pulling on a pair of skivvies he grabbed his scrub brush and towel and headed to the washroom to pump water into the same round wooden tub he had taken baths in when he was a child. It seemed so big back then, a veritable ocean. Now, he couldn’t even stretch out his legs.

In the kitchen, Ma Trodd served up plates of bacon, beans and bread then padded back to the stove to pick up a huge iron skillet full of sputtering eggs. She went around the table, neatly plopping two eggs on every plate.

Her son Jax rolled his eyes and slammed his elbows down on the table. “Aww ma, yew know I like mah aigs on m’ beans! Now there’s yolk all over the maize-bread!”

“Land-a-muddlin’ Jax!” Ma put her furry hand on her hip. “Yew done act like I kilt yer best friend. They’s a lot worse thangs happ’nin in thee universe then aigs a’leakin’ on bread!”

“I’m sorry ma. Didn’t mean t’ get yew riled.”

“She’s not riled,” Sister Sal said, cutting a dainty slice of egg with the side of her fork. “She’s worried. Mizz Yogg was telling her about the Coruscant emperor. He’s got six more planets under his belt.”

Brother Muss wrinkled his snubby nose. “Huh? Whadda yew mean, sis?” 

“He stole them. Not fair and not square.”

“How do you steal a planet?”

“With a lot of guns,” Their brother Puggles grunted through a mouthful of breakfast. Egg yolk glistened in his shaggy beard. 

Sally nodded her head. “It’s true. Unfortunately.”

Ma’s yellow eyes flashed with fear. “Some people is fightin’ back. Mercy. There might be another Clone Wars round thee corner.”

“Ain’t no Jedi left t’ fight um.” Brother Jimbo said, subdued, a sweating beer can held to his forehead. He hadn’t touched his breakfast. The hangover he was fighting demanded some hair-of-the-bantha first. 

Sister Shoog changed the subject. “I shore wish cuzzin Zeb could stay longer. He’s only got two more days, and he promised to take me to the fair.” 

“Cuzzin Zeb never breaks his promises,” Said Muss.

“CuZzIn ZeB NEEEEEVER BreAKs his PrOmiSes. . .” Puggles said in a wheedly, exaggerated voice, his face puckered like a dried korbapple.

“Did I hear my name?” Zeb said from the doorway of the kitchen. 

Ma beamed. “Bout’ time yew got up! Sit at the table. I’ll git yer vittles ready. Did you sleep well?”

“I slept like Firuz in his tomb,” Zeb said, rubbing his hands together in anticipation of his breakfast. Maybe tomorrow ma would make her special spawffles and needle tree syrup. He was about to tuck his napkin into the front of his shirt when- 

“Hey, did you all hear something?” Zeb said, putting his fork down.

“Like what?”

Like bellowing. Sounds like the Lunxx’s bull got out of his pen again.”

There was a stamping of feet out on the porch. Older sister Hallie opened the front door and hurried inside the house. She set her basket of herbs on the kitchen table and poured herself a cup of caf.

“Pa’s out in the field and he’s cussin’ up a dust storm. I mean, worse den usual.”

Ma clutched her apron. “Goodness, child! D’yuh think he’s a’right?”

“I asked him, but he jus’ kept on a hollerin’ and carrying on. I don’t think he even knew I wuz there. I has a sneakin’ suspicion the tractor broke down.”

“Great an’ benev-lent Bearded One,” Ma groaned as she served Zeb his breakfast. “I’m gonna hear ‘bout this til thee end a’ days…Jimbo, Jax, go see what’s goin’ on, woodya dears?”

Jimbo looked up. His yellow-orange eyes were rimmed with red. “Ma! I jus found out mah girl is courtin’ another he-male! I cain’t take pa’s bellyachin’ right now. I’m too e-moshan-lee com-pree-mized!”

Shoog rolled her eyes. “I’ll talk to him.”

“This iz a job fer one of yer brothers,” Ma said. She looked back at Jax, who panicked. 

“I’m late for mah sparrin’ practice!” The blotch-coated lasat rose from his chair and threw his napkin on his plate. “Now where’s mah boxin’ gloves at?” He ran from the kitchen.

Zeb forked his food between two pieces of maize-bread, making a giant to-go sandwich. He scooted his chair back and grabbed Puggles by his scrawny wrist.

“Let’s go help Pa!”

“Help Pa? Is yew crazy? He’ll tie me into a Mon Calamari sailor knot fer intrudin’ on his bad mood!”

“ Not if we solve his problem.”

***

Pa raged. He pounded on the tractor’s hood and stamped the turf beneath his feet, turning it into a patch of dark dirt. Gracie sat on her makeshift perch next to the tractor’s seat, grinning and panting, her tongue darting in and out of her mouth. Every time a fist came close she attempted to give it a sloppy kiss.

“WHAT IN CONSARNASHUN IZ WRONG WID YEW, YEH BLASTED CONTRAPTION!!!???

TAR-BUBBLIN’ LAZYBUMP SONNAVA JUGHEADED PLEASURE DROID!!!

POCKMARKED’ PISS-ENGINE!!

CHEAP PIECE A’ RUSTED RUIN!!

DROIDSON BATTERYDOOKER!!!”

“Do you kiss Ma with that mouth?”

Rufus Trodd whirled around. He saw his beloved nephew standing there, smiling, his demeanor as calm as a boodle bug floating on the surface of a still pond.

“She would faint if she heard you cursing like that.” Zeb continued.

Pa’s giant mitt batted at the air. “Aww. Not now Zebediah. I’m inna awful gaumy stew.”

Puggles stepped out from behind his brave younger cousin.

Looky here pa, I brang yeh a nice cold one! I thinked yew could use it.”

The mammoth lasat grabbed the offered six pack of beer, cracked each can open with machine-like speed and poured six streams of golden brew into his cavernous mouth. He wiped the stray foam from his mane and belched.

“Thanks son. Remind me not t’ call yew an ijit next time yew piss me off.”

Zeb approached the tractor. He ran his hands over two, still-warm engine cowls and sniffed the turbines. “What’s going on with her?”

“She were running fine, then all of a sudden, she starts a’shaking and a sputterin’. Den the jets got all quiet-like. How did I blow up two engines? That tiller I’m towin' don’t weigh that much. Hells, I towed a big ol’ howler-barr to thee taxidermist with dis here tractor. ”

Zeb scratched his head. “Was there any smoke?”

Pa thrust out his thick lower lip and tapped one of his fangs. “Now thet I think about it, not a hole lot. Jus’ a little puff out from under thee hood.”

“Ah-ha. Pop the hood Puggles.”

The little lasat obeyed and the tractor’s boxy mouth opened with a ‘TUMP’. Zeb raised the hood, looked inside and saw the problem immediately.

“It’s not the engines, Pa. It’s your injector cylinders. Are you running super-lean Kashyyyk fuel-oil in her?”

“Shore as dirt I am !”

“Well then, these injectors must just be old. Oh yeah. . . . ” Zeb thumbed the grime off one cylinder. Four-forty-eights. They are up to seven-forty-eights now. The tractor salesman neglected to change these. ”

Pa snorted. “Figures.”

Zeb changed the subject. He patted the old Wexiron Agri-Hover. “You know, inside, these tractors are almost identical to the insides of the tanks in the royal army. They really are well made. Puggles and I will pull these out and go into town to get new ones.”

Pa looked resigned to his fate of plowing the field by himself. Why did he sell that good team of muley-tauns? They weren’t that long in the tooth. 

“Payday’s not for six more days. I don’ wanna ask Ma t’ dip into her savings. She ain’t got that much anyway.”

Zeb grabbed Puggles by the ear and tugged him away’t so Pa couldn’t hear.

“I have some extra pay this cycle,” he whispered.

“Must be nice.” Puggles' gold eyes flashed orange. “I cain’t even afford a lil’ eeny-teeny far-cracker or a pack a smokes.”

Zeb crossed his striped arms. “First of all, you shouldn’t be smoking. It’s bad for you. Second, you’re a liar. I know for a fact Hallie gave you credits for cleaning her shed. You put them in your. . . ahem, ‘detonite fund account.’”

The little lasat was incensed. He balled his bony fists and put them up, taking a fighting stance. 

“I otta whup the green right outtta yer eyes yuh sucklin’-cub!! Of all thee indig-nitities! Called a larr by m’ little cuzzin!!!! Y’ain’t got the manners of that bitch anoobie over there! Come on, put yer dukes up!”

Zeb rolled his eyes and bit his lip. “ Not again.”

The young lasat was turning out to be a rather large and honorable soldier. One befitting of admiration and praise. How much longer was he going to allow his belligerent cousin to talk to him this way? Zeb sighed. A lasat couldn’t choose his family or the members within, but if he could have chosen, he would have picked what he already had, the hard-working and sometimes crude, spiritual, salt-of-Lasan Trodds.

“Alright you little a-hole. I’m sorry I called you a liar. Do you have any creds you can spare? Any at all?”

Puggles put his fists down. He retrieved a toothpick from his pocket and wedged it between his crooked incisors. He made a sucking sound with his teeth.

“Maybe. . .”


	2. The tractor part two

Zeb cruised down the main street of Snag Toe, a not-so-bustling metropolis that was only a skip and a hop away from the Trodd family farm. Puggles lay back in his reclined seat, picking his nose and flicking his findings into the wind.

“I told you to STOP DOING THAT!” Zeb popped his cousin across the chops with the back of his hand. “If one of those gets on me I’m gonna choke you out!”

Puggles cackled. He sat up in his seat and watched a jumble-shrub blow across the road. There were no vehicles hovering by the curbs or krauntaun mounts tugging at the hitching posts. Everything was quiet. A lone drifter clad in beaten leather fueled his speeder bike at a dark fuel station. The drifter turned onto the street without looking in the opposite direction and headed for Transitway Nineteen East. A solitary bantha in a paddock across the street lowed plaintively as she watched him go, her long tongue stretched out in his direction of travel. All the shops–including Gurvis’s Tractor and Farm Supply– were closed. The windows of the shops were concealed by plate-metal shades, like the eyelids of sleeping lasats.

“Welp, looks like evrry’thang is closed.”

“It’s only an hour and a half to mid-sun!” Zeb said.

Puggles scratched his hairy chin. “Wunner if this has sumptin to do wit the elly-mentry school carnival? Old Gurvis volunteers fer the milk bottle toss evry year, an Mizz Clapp, y’ know, the sundry shop owner, sells tickets. Yup, pract’ly the whole damn town gets involved.”

Zeb palmed his face. “ WHY didn’t you mention this BEFORE?”

“I unno. Jus’ slipped m’ mind. Oh well. Guess we has to go back home.”

“No. No, I promised Pa I’d help him fix the tractor today.”

Puggles sighed. He lit a cigarette and took a drag. “Well, if you insist. We kin turn left at thee stop and head on over to Needlesap. They gots a tractor parts store there too.”

Zeb thought for a moment.

“Nuh-uh. Needlesap has all those crazies who were released from the mental hospital. Oh. Heh. Sorry Puggles, no offense. Besides it’s where all the Lunxx boys hang out. I don’t feel like saving your scrawny tail today.”

“Save mah tail? Shheeeoot. . . I kin hold my own with them blinked-milk-suckin’ moon-calfs.”

Zeb laughed. “Whatever you say, Puggles.” The big purple lasat stretched his arms over the steering yoke and rested his head on them. His ear twitched. 

“What iz yew doin’? Gettin’ sum shut-eye’?”

“No. I’m thinking, and. . . I think I have an idea. How long has it been since you’ve visited the capital?”

“Amethyst City?”

“No. The other capital. Duh. Of course Amethyst City!”

Puggles’ brown face twisted. “I’d rather suck on the business end of a lightsaber! Or scrawl m’ name acrost a Mandy-lorry-an’s helm! Hells, I’d rather go skinny-dippin’ wid a love-sick dianoga than go to thee blasted capital!”

“So you really don’t wanna go?”

“No!” Why would I? Place is fulla ijits. Dandy lads an’ snooty gals and polly-tish-ans and such.”

“There’s lots of nice lasats, too.”

“I heard there wuz staurmtroopers there. An’ guards all a’suited in red.”

“Well, yes, but that was over two dust seasons ago,” Zeb said, a small crease forming over his brow. “The Empire wants fealty.That’s why the Emperor has sent envoys over the last couple years. Same thing happened when the Separatists and the Republic were vying for our support. Lasan isn’t interested in any political affiliation other than its own.”

“White and red. Bone and blood.” Puggles intoned. “That’s what Mossy said. Bone and blood.”

Zeb rolled his eyes. “ I think Mossy’s been eating too many toadstools.”

“Mebbe so. But he’s a witch’s son. Sometimes he has the mindsight. You member that.”

Zeb’s eyes shifted to the floorboard of the speeder. He looked at his feet. His prehensile toes kneaded the warm, plastoid-sheathed metal. Puggles’ worries were his as well, though he would never admit it.

“Capital’s two hours away. We better get going. I want to get Pa’s tractor up and running today so he can get an early start tomorrow morning.”

“Land a’ Muddlin’. Fine. Let’s git.”

***

The big city filled Puggles with a combination of loathing and excitement.

There was nary a field nor hollow nor tree to be seen, save the topiary monstrosities growing from large bronzium planter boxes lining the streets.

Massive domes and tall conical buildings competed with one another for space, corrupting the natural skyline of misty purple mountains beyond. Sheer crystal sidewalks tinged lavender and green fronted a myriad of shops for blocks and blocks on end. Lasats in colorful attire bustled about like bees in a hive, their servant droids walking behind them, shopping wagons in tow. 

Zeb entered a round-about on one busy street. In the middle was a statue of a heroic-looking female. Her quadranium arm was raised, a large bo-rifle in her grip. The sun glinted off her tattered uniform and one bared breast.

Puggles' eyes widened three sizes. “Did yew see that? Her tiddy is showin’! Whoo-wee. . . and it’s a nice un’!”

“Be respectful, Puggles. That’s Shaddis Rrochious. She was a highly-skilled warrior and martyr who perished in the barbarian wars.”

“A warrior huh? Sheeeoot, she could shock me wid that ‘lectric rifle any time.”

“I’ll be sure to tell her spirit that when I’m in temple. Oh, and by the way, there’s a great statue of Firuz in front of the Warrior Council building. We should bring Jenni next time. I’m sure she would admire the bulge in his-”

“All right, all right. Point taken. I’m sorry Miss Shaddis! Please ‘cept a Southern boy’s humble ‘pology!” Puggles turned and shouted.

They continued on down the street. Colorful, high-definition holograms flashed in the fancier shop windows, advertising the wares inside. The colors danced across the hood of Zeb’s speeder. Puggles whistled through his teeth.

“I ain’t been here since I wuz a lil’ sapling but I don't ‘member any of this crap.”

“Are you sure you could see over the dashboard?” Zeb threw back his head and laughed.

“Go fuck yerself.”

“Sorry. I couldn’t resist.” The big lasat covered his mouth with his hand and snickered.

Puggles hmmmf’ed. “I’ve been off planet and I never seen a sinners’ paradise like dis.”

“You keep on bounty hunting and I’m sure you will. Maybe you’ll get lucky and be offered a job on Coruscant.”

“ Lucky. Oh yeah, sure. Thee lower levels of Coruscant iz a killers’ paradise.” He changed the subject.“Where is we going t’ git the doodads for Pa’s tractor?”

Zeb smiled proudly. “Just so happens I have access to the parts depot near the guards barracks.”

Puggles went silent, as if he was in a trance. He blinked his eyes. A wicked smile unfurled across his face.

“That means yew has access t’ the munitions depot too. Don’t yew?”

Zeb’s hands shifted nervously on the steering yoke.

“N-no. Of course not. I’m not authorized to go in there.”

“Yew iz lying cuzz. I kin always tell. Yer nose gits all pink and twitchy. Course It don’t happen much, since yew is such an honest soul.”

“As opposed to you.”

“Yep, as ‘posed t’ me.” 

Zeb stopped at a signal. Three attractive older females with fantastically coiffed hair crossed the street in front of him. All three were walking tiny, white-furred oorvarks with gemstone encrusted collars.They waved and lowered their eyelids in a flirtatious manner. When they were out of ear-shot Zeb turned to face Puggles and grabbed up the front of his shirt.

“Let’s get one thing straight. . . CUZZ. This isn’t a fireworks buying expedition. There’ll be no bombs, no thermal detonators, no percussion grenades, no flares, no flash-bangers , no detonite, and no rocket launchers! NOTHING!” 

Puggles pulled back and brushed off the front of his old flannel shirt.

“ Of all thee in-dig-nitties! I swear Zebediah, military life has made yew as ornery as a croaker eel!! I just wanted a little sooveneer.”

“I’ll buy you a tee-shirt.”

Puggles mumbled under his breath. How dare his little cousin treat him like some kind of infant cub! He had half a mind to throw a fit, one that would embarrass Zeb to his core.

The speeder approached a busy establishment named the Tooth and Claw. It looked warm and inviting with its polished wood balustrades and stairs. A brawny male wearing the same type of skin-suit that Zeb wore had another male in a tight headlock. The trapped male didn’t seem distressed in any way. He laughed as he went to his knees and flipped his assailant over his shoulder. Both lasats stood up and patted each other on the back then lifted their huge ale mugs from a small table to the side of the stairs. Puggles clapped his hands and licked his parched lips.

“It’s a bar Zeb! Pull over! I could really use a beer!”

“Oh, I don’t know Puggles. You’ve been drinking a lot lately.”

“What iz yew, mah Ma?”

“No. I just worry about you that’s all. Besides, we don’t have time.”

“We have time fer one beer!”

Zeb knew if he didn’t give in, his cousin would continue to harp about the weapons depot. He listened to the crowd inside the establishment. Clinking glass and raucous laughter spilled out the doorway. Soon after, the laughing turned to cheering. It was the toeball finals, and Zeb knew that some of his mates were inside. He looked at Puggles who was practically salivating.

“Okay. First of all, here in the Capital, it’s called a pub. Second, ONE beer. Then we leave. I think I should warn you. There are some second-year honor guards in there. Like me. They get pretty rowdy. Especially when they’re watching sports.”

“I hate sports.”

“Yeeeah, maybe don’t mention that.”

Zeb parked the speeder around back. He and Puggles stretched their legs and headed for the front door. As soon as they entered the pub, a whole table of green skin-suited males jumped up, whooping and hollering.

“Hey it’s good old Orrelios! ”

“The Zebster!”

“What’s up Zebby?”

“Come over here, mate! The Shocktown Royals are knocking the stripes off the Burrndock Howlers!!”

Zeb waved. Puggles was off like a rocket before his cousin could make introductions. He jumped up onto the bar’s foot-rail–squeezing between two big graybeards smoking their pipes–and banged on the wood planked bar.

“ Anyone here? Someone pour me a cold one! No foam now, ye hear?”

The tender stepped out of the shadow. She was almost eight feet tall and as wide as the two graybeards combined. Her hair was an enormous blue bush and her chin was as square as a box. A dark mole stood out on her right lower cheek like a bullet wound. The cobalt stripes on her impressive biceps were as wide as one of Puggles’ legs. A fat cigar dangled from her lower lip.

“Didja say something, love?” she said in a surprisingly pleasant voice.

Puggles stared up at her boulder-sized breasts and lava-hued eyes and let out a gasp of genuine admiration. He fluffed out his jaw fringes.

“Great Bearded One! If yew ain’t the most stunning creature of thee female sex I’ve seen in this blasted city! Howz about yew pour me a cold one an we kin step out back for a spell.”

Panicking, Zeb and two of his mates rushed the bar. ‘Tiny Teeks’ the bartender picked up a heavy glass mug. She looked like she was planning to smash Puggles’ in the mouth.

“I don’t like blokes funnin’ with me, Short-shanks!” she said.

“I ain’t funnin’ you Big Blue! I likes what I sees!”

The square-jawed female looked at Zeb, who had a pleading look in his eyes. She put down the mug. “Orrelios, ye came in with this little squirt. Is he for real?”

“Unfortunately he is. He fancies himself a ladies-male. He’s my uhh. . well you see, he ah..that is, me and him are. . .”

“Cousins, Teeks! One of Zeb’s squadmates–a few-years older male named Gron–shouted. “That’s Zebby’s hill-trekker cousin! The one he’s always talking about.”

“Well I’ll be a korsa’s dewlap,” Teeks said with a snicker. “Don't see the family resemblance.”

“Hit cain’t be seen on thee outside gorgeous. Our fam’ly’ semblance iz our love-makin' talents. Iddent that right, Zebediah? Us Trodds iz natural born kit-magnets!”

“Oh Gods and Ancestors . . .” Zeb blushed while his friends fell on the floor laughing. He wanted nothing more than to shrink down to the size of a flea and disappear into a crack in the wall. “Puggles, would you shut your-”

Zeb didn’t finish his sentence. Horns blared from the holovid player speaker. They were proceeded by the roars of a couple thousand spectators. Lasats in the pub went wild. Teeks jumped up and down and clapped her hands. “GOOOOAAAAAAALLL!!! Oi, did ya see it boyos? Xaniboor’s ball flew into the net faster than a mynock flying out of th’ inferno! GO ROYALS!!”

Teeks picked up Puggles like a rag doll and kissed him on the lips. Then she dropped him and poured him a beer. “There’s more where that came from, love! No no, put away your credits! I’m buying. I don’t know about your special talents, but you sure as dust are a good luck charm!”

“What about me, Teeks?” a dark-faced, yellow-furred guard asked in a whining tone. “I’m your best customer!”

The big female frowned. “Squints, I wouldn’t piss in ye pocket if ye was dying’ of thirst. I heard what y’ said about me! That me arse is bigger than any of the arses in the Capital Zoo.”

“That wasn’t me! It was Bear.”

“Sure, sure. And I’m th’ bleedin’ Queen!”

Puggles puffed out his chest and walked jauntily toward the table where Zeb had re-seated himself. Noticing that there was no chair available for him, he dragged one from the next table over and shoved it between Zeb and another young male. The soldiers were talking–more like gossiping–about what seemed like a very serious incident.

“. . .so she snuck out, again, and met Lorrbskr in the priest’s gardens.”

“I don’t believe that,” Zeb said, shaking his head. “Lorrbskr’s got a good career ahead of him. His whole family is military. He could be General some day.”

Squints made a funny sound with his nose.“You know how the Princess is. Always flirting. Always sneaking out. Getting blokes into trouble is a sport for her.”

“But, her guards. How does she keep giving them the slip?”

“She’s as slick as snot, that one.”

“ Lorrbskr's going before a review committee. Karabast, I wouldn’t want to be in his shin guards.”

Zeb sat back and took a drink of his ale. He burped against his fist.

“You guys are jumping to conclusions. He was probably at the temple to pray for his sick mother. The Princess saw him from her window, climbed out and comforted him. You gotta admit her life has to be pretty boring. She’s not allowed to have a suitor, can’t go anywhere without a chaperone. Hells, the Queen probably picks out her wardrobe and food and everything.”

Puggles rolled his eyes.

“Yew fellers iz thee most borin’ stiffs I’ve ever met. Gossiping like a flock a’ hens. I’m gonna go play spinner darts.”

“You do that,” Zeb growled. 

The little lasat ditched his chair and padded up to the bar. Teeks had a cold one waiting for him. 

“Ye really should have some of the stout. It’ll hit ye in a most pleasant way,” she said, winking one orange eye.

“Darlin’, if beer was meant t’ be warm ittid be served in a soup bowl.”

***

Zeb watched Squints shuffle a nudie sabacc deck.

“You in?” the yellow and brown lasat grinned.

“Sorry, no. We can only stay for a little while. Gotta get a part for my adoptive father’s tractor then drive back to Needlesap County before it gets dark.”

“No pressure mate. Hey uh, Zebby, me and the boys were meaning to ask you something.”

The other young guards turned away from the toeball game and stared at Zeb.

“What?”

“You know Captain Zanku is going to retire soon. Do you think you might try to claim his position?”

The purple lasat widened his eyes. He visibly swallowed. “Me? Captain? I dunno. I mean I’ve thought about it. Maybe years down the road.”

“Come on. You'd make a great one! Right boys? That would be wiz! You as our Captain!” Everyone nodded in excited agreement.

“Mnnn. The trials though. I’d have to get in top shape. Physically and mentally.”

“What are you talking about? You’re already there! Strong as a gnapstrup and sharp as a dirk. You passed your first trials with flying colors. Hells, you know more about military history than Zanku himself.”

Zeb put his hand behind his head and rubbed his neck. “Yeah. He made me regret correcting him on the dates of The Battle of Kisgothi.” 

“Latrine duty sucks nodge-gobs doesn’t it?”

“Sure as shit does!”

The two lasats laughed until tears came to their eyes.

Gron slapped Zeb on the shoulder. “You got my vote, Orrelios. Karabast, you’ve got all our votes.” He raised his mug and the others at the table did the same.

When an ear-splitting shriek suddenly sounded high above the din, everyone clapped their hands over their ears. A surge of ugly, gray-green smoke boiled out of the back room. Puggles Trodd bolted through the smoke, his ears flat and his eyes enormous.

“Zeb! Let’s go!!” He screeched as he bounded across table-tops.

“Puggles? Is- is that one of your smoke screamers?”

“Stop wid thee questions and run!” Puggles shouted drunkenly.

“Why?”

“Y’ know a big dude wid a gray cape and a green bo-rifle?

“Yeah. That’s our Captain.”

“Well, I hit him in thee forehead wit a dart. Right smack tween th’ eyes. Don’ worry, he’s still kickin’.’”

Zeb’s eye twitched. As his friends ran for the door, he grabbed Puggles, threw him over his shoulder and sprinted outside. He tossed the little lasat into his speeder’s passenger seat and leapt into his own. The engines roared to life. Zeb floored the accelerator, fishtailing, then careening out into the street. He banged on the steering yoke.

“I knew it. I knew something like this would happen!” He turned in his seat and watched pub patrons spill out onto the sidewalk, coughing and clutching their pained ears. He hoped beyond hope that everyone in the pub would keep Puggles’ identity a secret.“That’s it, Zeb shouted. We’re getting the parts and we’re out of here! I am never taking you to the Capital again as long as I live!”

Puggles crossed his arms and grumped. 

“Suits me jus’ fine. I nebber wanted t’ come here in the first place. Stupid dart. Spinner must’a been warped.”

“The only thing that’s warped is you!” Zeb snarled, so venomously it made Puggles start.“How much did you have to drink back there? Hmm? Five, six?”

“ Seven. I din’ pay for them if that’s what’s eatin’ ya. I still has all my money.”

“Karabast! I don’t care about the blasted money!”

Puggles slammed his small fist on the dash. “Honestly Zeb, I cain’t fer the life a’ me figger you out. Why is yew is so bowed up?”

Zeb chewed his lip. His anger swelled anew.

“Because you’re a disgusting alcoholic and you refuse to see it!”

There came an uncomfortable silence. The gentle thrum of the speeder’s engine sounded like a roar in Zeb’s ears.

Shocked and hurt, Puggles turned over in his seat. His body was slumped against the door and his ears were drooping. Seconds went by before he spoke. His voice was devoid of emotion.

“Yew jus’ keep on beein’ perfect Zeb. Show us pathetic losers what it’s like t’ be a god.”


	3. The Tractor part three

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had to chop the last chapter into two parts as I exceeded the word count. Doh!

A greater whipkillow flew high above the winding mountain road, its vee-shaped body held aloft by warm thermal updrafts. It followed the sleek Sorosuub speeder for a few klicks, then deciding that its occupants were too large to make a meal of, gracefully rolled toward the west and soared on.

Zeb handled the winding two-lane with no trouble whatsoever. After all, he had cut his driving fangs on roads like this one when he was a kid no bigger than Puggles. 

Speaking of Puggles, he thought to himself. He checked his chrono and sighed. One agonizing hour of awkward silence had passed. Under normal circumstances, it was a blessing when Puggles was quiet but this silent treatment was driving Zeb mynock-shit crazy. He cleared his throat and pointed over his shoulder to the small back seat of the speeder where a plastoid packing crate sat.

“So, I found the perfect parts for Pa’s tractor.”

There was a long pause, then-

“Whoop-dee-diddley doo,” Puggles finally said, under his breath.

“Actually,” Zeb continued. “I found a lot of good parts. Do you think pa would like a high performance tractor engine? Sure would make Pa Lunxx jealous.”

The little brown lasat sat up in his seat and tagged his cousin with a glossy-eyed stare. 

“ I cain’t believe yew! Yer jus gunna ferget what y said t’ me back there in thee city? Talk to me like nuttin' ever happened? Puggles ain’t got no feelin’s, huh? Tis a’right t’ tear him down. It ain’t like he’s a normal lasat anyway.” 

“Puggles, about what I said–”

“Hells, Zeb!” The big purple lasat was cut off. “I know I’m a drunk. I admit it. I ain’t never hid it from nobody. Not Jenni, not Ma nor Pa nor thee bounty hunters’ guild. Sure I got the thirst. I got the shakes right now thinking ‘bout my next cold one. It hurt a little when yew threw that in my face, but when yew called me disgustin, I don’t know’. . . Twas like a dagger in th’ heart. Like ol’ Puggles is so unpleasant and rotten and such that yew wanna un-relate yerself to him.”

Zeb’s eyes widened. “No, no. You’re getting me wrong. I didn’t mean that at all. I was just mad.”

“I could feel it, Zeb. Deep in my innards. I has t’ get it through my noggin that yew is all growed up and smart an’ stuff.” The little lasat knocked on his fuzzy head. “My brain ain’t like a citified brain. I cain’t keep up wit yew there. I unnerstand why yew hate me and hate me bee’in round yer friends. I’m a bigger shame t’ yew than yer no-good daddy.”

Great big tears spilled down Puggles’ cheeks.

Zeb pulled off the road onto the evergreen-needle-strewn shoulder.

“Shows how little you know.” He grabbed Puggles and squeezed him tight. It wasn’t a comforting hug for Puggles. It was a need-to-be-comforted hug for himself.

“I love you, cousin. It's just. . . Well, it’s really me, not you. I have a lot of new friends, and I’m not gonna lie, sometimes I feel out of place in the city. In the academy. I doubt myself. I always wonder if I’m smart enough or strong enough or if I give off the right ‘warrior vibe’. Lasats make fun of my accent. Sometimes my superiors say I’m extremely talented . . . for a hayseed! What’s that supposed to mean? Am I impressing them or not? My grades speak for themselves, but what am I saying? Will lasats take me seriously? Am I Honor guard material or am I some sort of joke?”

Puggles squirmed out of Zeb’s crushing grasp, grabbed his shoulders and looked at him. The purple lasat was panting. His eyes were bulging and his stress-scent was blooming. 

“They called you a hayseed? A karabastin’ hayseed?? What a bunch of . . . y’ know what? Kark them book-humpin’, tea-drinkin’, art-gallery-attendin’, formal-attire-and-what-have-you-wearin’ assholes! I seed you study war strategies all day, straight thru suppertime and into thee night! Yew’ve climbed ironwood trees to the tippy-top and down in twenty seconds and bench-pressed hammerhead calves until they wuz full-grown bulls!! Yew is smart enough and strong enough and y’ has a right-impressive dignity. Ain't no lie, Zeb. All yew gotta work on iz yer patience. Y’ cain’t make good decisions as a soldier if yew is impatient.”

Zeb blinked and stared, like a lasat who had just been slapped. “You know what, you’re right. You are absolutely right. I have no patience. But how can I get some? How does one learn patience? I need practice. Hmmm. I suppose I could count the sand grains in the penance jar at church or dust the books in Chava’s Rishuda School for Mystics. I mean the sand grains would be easier, but-”

“Or y’ could go fishin’ wit me an’ Mossy. Fishing is thee eh-pito-mee of patience. Sum-times when them bastard eels ain’t biting, I sit and watch the rings on the water. Y' know, the ones made by them skate-flies? What’s th’ matter Zeb? Yer eyes are all watery. Iz yew gonna puke?”

Zeb flashed a handsome smile. “No, you scruffy mutt-bear! You gave me good advice. Sage advice! You’re not stupid at all. Well, maybe when explosives are involved or when you are trying to get yourself out of trouble for something you obviously did.”

“For thee last time, I did not blow the roof off th’ outhouse!”

“Uh huh. Alright, if you say so. Let’s get going. Ma’s making chooken and dumplings tonight and I am as starved as a kaleesh under a Confederacy trade embargo.”

Puggles grinned. “Yeah, if we ain’t home soon, pa will swaller down most of it. I dunt feel like eatin’ canned snelches and nog-sop t’night.”

☾☾☾☾☾☽☽☽☽☽

Pa lit his old pipe, sucked at the mouthpiece and puffed out a wobbling wreath of smoke which wafted slowly in ma’s direction. The big female leaned on her broom and thumped one of the porch planks with a giant four-toed foot. She wrinkled her naso-bucchal fold in disgust as she aggressively waved the smoke away from her face.

“That ‘baccer smells stale. Mercy. You'd better get down to th’ store and buy some new.”

Pa sat back in his rocker and began to rock. “Hesh up now woman. This here ‘baccer wuz given t’ me by a travelin’ preacher. Said he wanted t’ share sum smoke an’ gospel an’ I figgered if the ‘baccer wuz free, why not?”

“A trav’lin preacher. Puh. Yew is so gullible, Rufus. He'll be back at this here house tonight tryin’ t’ sell you hymn books and beard curlers!”

“An’ I’ll say, ‘preacher man, my ol’ woman, bless her righteous force-matter, spent all my hard-earned pay on a com-pewter for thee younglings.”

“Mebbe I should do that,” Ma teased.

Pa’s enormous overhang of a brow furrowed. “What in thee nine hells is takin’ them woodnoggins so long?”

“Rufus! Don’t yew call Zeb a woodnoggin!”

“ I’m sorry! Don’t git yer fur up!! What I meaned is they should’ve been back by now. I hope Puggles didn’t do somethin’ stupid.”

The Trodds went silent. Their eyes rolled upward. Ma changed the subject. She held up a tiny article of clothing which she had pulled from her apron pocket.

“Do yew like this lil’ romper I made?”

Pa squinted one yellow eye. “Looks awful puny. Don’ think it’s gonna fit yew, darling.”

“It ain’t fer me. It’s fer Trapper’s grandchild.”

“His grandchild!? I dint even know he had a child. Am I senile?”

“No. I dint know neither. ‘Parintly he got a female up north with cub. We got a letter from that cub today. She’s twenty-four and has a babe of her own!” Ma stuffed the tiny garment back into her apron and pulled out a handkerchief which she used to dab at the corners of her eyes. Tears contained, she put the small cloth back and fished around inside her pocket again, this time retrieving a flimsi-plast envelope containing a truncated message and a coin-sized holo puck. She put the puck into her palm and activated it, displaying a three-dimensional image of the Trodd’s great-grand-child. It was a girl cub, lying in the typical saccharine-sweet side pose, hands beneath chin and head on a ruffled pillow. She had a pale, blue-brown pelt and long eyelashes and she sported so many rolls of fat she looked more like a pile of tires than a lasat.

“Land a’ Muddlin’!!” Pa took his pipe from his mouth and gaped. “That’s thee most darlin’ cub I ever seed! An angel of Iego if there ever wuz one. Looks jus’ like Trapper when he wuz borned! Member how healthy he wuz? Fat as a late-summer hog. Now that baby izza Trodd.” Pa continued to look on the image with pride. His finger passed through the image as he tickled it and cooed at it like it was a real child. “Who is this gal our son cleaved? The one who gave us a granddaughter and this beautiful great grand-daughter?”

Ma sighed and placed the puck in Pa’s shirt pocket. “I dunno. She don't want nothing t’ do with us, but our granddaughter does. Her name is Saylsha. Our great -granddaughter is named Hunter.”

“A great one she’ll be If I has anythin’ to do wid it,” Pa said, beaming.

“I don’t like the name. Tis a boys’ name. I think she looks more like a Tilda.”

Rufus Trodd brushed a wavy lock of hair away from Sadie’s eyes. They were beautiful eyes; yellow as molten gold and framed with long sable lashes. He loved her long lashes, the way they tickled his collarbone when she curled up close to him in bed.

“Sadie honey, let’s make another cub.”

Ma’s eyes narrowed. “Rufus, yew always get fatherly-feelin’ when yew see cubs. I is quite pleased wit thee number of childrens we has.”

“But we only has eleven! Twelve iffn yew count Zeb. He wuz thee baby but now he’s all growed up. Hard t’ b’leve. I kin still see him in my eye’s past. That brave lil’ lasat, grabbin’ my finger and starin’ me down like a boar howler bear.” 

Ma smiled as she recalled the early antics of her sister’s precious son. “I know yew miss th’ kids when they wuz little, but we has plenty of grandchildren and great grandchildren to cuddle and spoil. Tell yew what, I’ll call Mae an’ have her bring thee brood this comin' Sixth-day.”

“I want anudder of our own. C’mon Sadie. Yew is in yer heat time. Ain’t no hiding it from me. I feel ‘lectrified round yew. Th’ house is empty for the first time inna long time and I’ll bet th’ boys ain’t gonna be back anytime soon. Tis like a message from thee Great Bearded One.”

Ma saw the mate-want In her husband’s eyes. “What has gotten into yew Rufus? We dis’cussed this after Puggles came along. No more cubs!” 

“Lasan commands we giv’er more cubs,” Pa said in a soft but commanding voice. He took ma’s hand and planted it on his strong thigh.

“Old fool. Yer drunk.”

“I ain’t had a drop.” He pushed her hand higher. 

Sadie feigned disinterest but the feel of her husband’s burgeoning desire, bulging beneath the rough cloth of his coveralls, stirred her. Sweet hunger nibbled at her, in that sweet spot below her belly. She squeezed. His flesh was iron. 

Pleasure-pain coursed through the female lasat. She tore her hand away and uttered a frightening growl-hiss. She flattened her ears. Her slot-nostrils flared. One prehensile foot latched onto the porch beam. Pa stood up. Slow. Purpose-driven.

“Woman. . .Don’t yew climb up onto that roof. I kin catch y’ y’ know.”

Ma bared her teeth and let go of the beam. She licked her lips. The two big lasats circled each other. Pa’s growl was so deep and heavy it resonated through Sadie’s body. He shook his head, fluffing his jaw fringes. Ma chirped sweetly in response and sniffed at her mate. Pa bent slightly to sniff her back. His pug nose quivered. He could feel her breath against his bearded cheek. He wanted her breath. Wanted to share. Slowly, carefully, he pressed his nostrils against Sadie’s, creating a seal with her. They inhaled and exhaled through each other, becoming one being with the circle-breath of lovers.

They broke apart, trembling in the warmth of each other’s bodies. With springs of urgency they rushed the front door. The screen was flung open, tearing bolts from the hasps. Ma and pa heaved and grunted when they accidentally wedged themselves in the doorframe. Pa bit back a roar of frustration. He backed up, allowing his beautiful mate to enter first. They thundered upstairs to the bedroom and slammed the door.

In the yard, contented chookens clucked as they scratched for beetles. A barn-tooka yawned from a tree limb above.

And not a minute later, a racing land speeder with engines ablazing tore up the dirt road.

TA-DAH TA-DAH! TA ! ———TI DEEDILY DIDDELY DAH! The horn blared as Garazeb Orrelios repeatedly mashed the button in the middle of the steering tee. Puggles Trodd had the striped lasat in a playful headlock as he sang in unison with the horn’s jubilant cadence.

“The dia-no-ga. . . peeked out of the bathtub drain! The dia-no-ga. . .got an eyeball full of pain!  
He shouldn’t have stared, the beast, he shouldn’t have settled there. . . my gal she stomped his eye, after rinsing her violet hair!”

Zeb laughed hysterically and joined in. He squirmed out of Puggles grip, grabbed the little lasat’s head and planted it, face forward in his armpit. The speeder juked, narrowly missing the rail fence around ma’s flower garden, and came to a stop right in front of the house. Zeb continued to pound the horn.

“Uncle Roof! Come out! We got parts to fix the tractor!”

Puggles poked his head out between Zeb’s forearm and pit. “Yeah pa! Yew kin still plow the field this eve-nin’!”

The irony was painfully vicious.

A loud crash followed by booming footfalls followed by the sound of a window being violently thrust open came from the upstairs bedroom. The window shattered, raining glass over the speeder’s long front end. Zeb grimaced. He and his friends shared the speeder. How would he explain all the chips in the paint?

“What thee hells?” Puggles squealed. “Pa, y’allmost hit us!”

A frightening visage appeared at the window. Rufus Trodd’s face was as dark as a storm cloud. “Almost y’say? ALMOST?? GIT UNDER THAT OTHER WINDER AND I’LL TRY AGAIN!!!!!!!”

Zeb leaned into Puggles, his hand bracketing his mouth. “We must have woken him up.”


	4. The Tractor part four

The late afternoon light produced sultry shadows between the weedy furrows of last years garden. Pa looked to the mountains and released a disappointed grumble-sigh. He had less than four hours to till, re-furrow and water the large plot before it got dark. Ma wanted to plant and cover the rows with straw early in the morning, before seed-eating kraykillows left their nests to forage. He supposed she could plant next weekend, but it would be hard, what with the quilting bee and church the day after.

Puggles and Zeb dove into their work, testing, bolting on, and screwing down the new parts. Pa’s anooba Gracie padded up. She was holding a beer in her powerful jaws. A thin amber spray hissing from the can’s punctured top spattered against her tongue.

“Thanks ol’ girl!” Puggles swiped the can out of Gracie’s mouth and, after wiping off a copious amount of saliva, popped the top and guzzled what was left in the can. He tossed it over his shoulder and picked up a bolt to examine it.

“Hey, Zeb. Th’ thread on this bolt is near gone.”

“Karabast. I was afraid of that. I think there’s one more heavy-duty in the tool box. Can you bring me some nycelpropeline gel? I have to clean this torque-ring. It’s all plugged up with gunk.”

“No problem,” Puggles said, jumping from the frame of the tractor to the ground and scrambling over to the box on all fours like a shaggy brown monkey. After finding the right bolt and the cleaner he leapt back up onto the side of the bulky tractor. He picked up his spanner tool and waited for Zeb to finish. He cocked his head and looked at the parts’ container.

“Whoa, don’tchu think them fuel compressors iz kinda big? That's a lotta juice going into them engines at one time.”

“No, they’ll be all right,” Zeb said, polishing the metal ring in his hand. “There. All clean.”

Puggles took another beer from Gracie. Pa had trained her well. “These here injectors is gonna make them engines scream,” He tapped one with his spanner.

“True, but these are gonna make them roar,” Zeb said, holding up two spiraled cylinders. Puggles flashed a crooked-toothed smile.

“Modular C-force boosters?? Well, butter mah balls! Unlimited powwaaaaar!”

“That’s right.The Wexiron company is number one when it comes to upgrading. Pa can go to war in this baby after we’re done.” Zeb patted the tractor.

“Nuh uh. Not till we get a couple cannons mounted up top. Look out yonder in thee field! It’s thee Lunxx boys! Farrrrr when ready!. . . BOOOOM!” Puggles shouted at the top of his lungs.

Pa sighed. “I don’ wanna go t’ war, boys. I jus’ wanna tear up this here field and git er ready for plantin’.”

Zeb laughed. He wiped his spanner on a greasy rag. “You’ll be able to turn this weed lot into a prime patch of turf in less than twenty minutes. That’s what the parts guy said, anyway.”

Pa engaged himself with his usual bout of grousing. He wanted to leave, wanted to surrender himself to his loving Sadie’s arms once again, but he decided to stay and watch the repair. Who knew what Puggles would do if he wasn’t there to keep an eye on him.

It took a standard hour and a half for the two cousins to fix and upgrade the tractor. Zeb closed the engine compartments while Puggles literally threw the tools back into the tool box.

“How long should I wait b’fore I kin drive her?”

Zeb wiped his greasy hands on a rag. “Oh, you can drive her right now.”

“You wuz serious when yew said I could plow today? No kiddin’?”

“No kidding.”

“What about them gaskets?”

“Pa, those are pressure-sealed phrik-plated duranium gaskets. They are ready to go.”

“Well, I’ll be a monkey-lizard’s uncle. Ain’t that somethin’. An’ I still has a couple ahrs a daylight left.”

The brown lasat jumped to action. He climbed up into the seat and flipped the ignition toggle. There was a low whine which quickly graduated to a high whine. A few seconds passed and the whine became a tornado-level scream. Gracie ran off with her tail between her legs.

“Is it s’posed to be this loud?” Pa shouted over the engine. Zeb gave him the universal thumbs-up signal.

“Well, lessee if thee operation worked.” Pa tied an old handkerchief around his head and adjusted it to cover his mouth and nares. He opened the compartment in front of him and took out a pair of goggles. Lowering them over his eyes he then cracked his knuckles and dropped the tiller into position. Pa raised the repulsor-lift level and slowly turned the tractor toward the waiting field. He stepped on the acceleration pedal.

A little too hard.

Twin jets of red-orange flare, like the spew of mythical wyvern-birds, burst from the tractor’s exhaust barrels. Pa had forgot to mention that the accelerator pedal was sticky and needed a good mashing with the foot to get the tractor moving. 

Pa was off like a comet. The tractor streaked diagonally across the field, throwing twin rooster-tails of soil behind it. It hurtled toward the open pasture and the mountains beyond.

Zeb was horrified. He put his claw tips in his mouth and bit down hard. Puggles on the other hand, was jubilant. He whooped and hollered and pumped his fist in the air.

“Ride that rocket pa! Lookitim go! Yeeeeee hawwwwdy hawww! Oooh y’ nearly hit dat heifer! Thatta boy ol’ son, getta hold of ‘er. Don’ letter git away!”

The tractor turned away from the mountains and continued on a new reckless path, taking out the rail fence pen that contained a gang of black and tan kalgow hogs. The two-legged porcines scattered like leaves, oinking and squealing with fear.

“Oh no, no,” Zeb groaned. He wrung his hands. “Why won’t Uncle Roof stop? He must be in shock or something. I knew I should have weighted down the front end of that blasted thing! Karabast! I’ll never live with myself if he. . if he..”

“He’ll be al’right,” Puggles said. “Nuttin’ kin destroy Pa! But you Zeb, ha ha! Yew is finally gonna git in trouble! After all, dis wuz yer idea, not mine. Puggles ain’t to blame for nothing! Puggles is innocent!”

Zeb was afraid that Puggles was right. He had really messed up. All he wanted to do was fix pa’s tractor and give it a little more power. 

Now the Trodd patriarch was going in circles, tighter and tighter until all Zeb could see was a round ring of jet fire, spinning at an un-forcely speed!

“He’s doin’ donuts! Wizard donuts! I bet he’s gonna toss his waffles!” Puggles cackled.

Pa’s old tractor came out of its spin lying down on its side, like a grav-bike going into a curve. Pink afterburn dashes followed the beastly vehicle as it gained speed again and turned toward the big barn.

“Shit Zeb, I think he’s going in and the back barn-door is closed!”

Zeb leapt into action. His powerful legs pumped as he ran toward the barn, trying to reach it before pa could. He jumped and cleared the cellar house and navigated a thorny berry patch, yelping every time an uncalculated step planted his foot on top of a painful pricker. He tripped over a forgotten garden hose, tore his skin-suit on a bush and got his foot caught in a pail but he managed to reach the back of the barn in time to roll the big door aside. 

He was blown over onto his backside when a big lasat riding a hurtling rocket exited the barn. Zeb could actually hear Rufus’s booming calls over the shrieks of the tractor’s engines. He exhaled and wiped the sweat from his brow. Puggles came ambling up. He offered his hand to his cousin.

“Yew okay?”

Zeb took his hand and stood, shaking.“Where is he?”

The little lasat pointed to the eastern pasture where the tractor was rollicking to and fro, plowing deep zig-zag scars in the ground.

“I’m dead. I’m so dead. ‘Dead as a dead mythosaur frozen in carbonite’ dead.” 

“Now, now, Zebby-di-ah. Pa might let yew off wid a couple cracks from his belt. Ol’ Skinner ain’t welted a butt in a couple months.”

The purple lasat put his hands over his magnificently sculpted rear cheeks and gulped in trepidation. “I’ve gotta help him.”

Zeb ran for the eastern pasture. “I’m coming, Uncle Roof!!!” 

Puggles followed, panting and wheezing as he tried his best to keep up.

Pa’s errant mount slalomed effortlessly through an obstacle course of square hay bales but seemed hell-bent on a collision course with one titanic stack of tawny grass. On the other side of the stack, its stumpy legs half-retracted beneath itself like a napping hen, was the Trodd family’s faithful GNK droid. It was deep in electronic dream-sleep and totally unaware of the danger that was fast approaching. Zeb and Puggles spied the poor defenseless droid. They tried to get pa’s attention.

“Turn! turn! turn!” They yelled, waving their hands to one side in a synchronized motion.

There came another sound from Pa. It was strange and somewhat frightening. It sounded like a child’s scream. . . . of excitement?

The stack exploded, sending grass hay a hundred or more feet into the air. The tractor spun, did a nosedive and came to a violent stop. Hurtling through the disaster cloud like a boxy projectile was the GNK droid.

“GGOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOONNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNKKKKKKKKKKK!”

It continued on its upward journey, its optic sensors taking in the sights of cyan sky and fleecy taffy-mallow clouds. Directly above, the sun was a radiant disc of white-hot starlight. The GNK felt a charge of electricity crackle over its metal skin. Its dream had come true. It was flying! Finally, it was flying! GNK knew how the killows felt, like lords, their domain weightless and heavenly.

“I’m a spaceship! I’m really a spaceship now! To the stars! To battle!”

Unfortunately, the old adage ‘what goes up must come down’ was indeed truth. The GNK’s ascent was short-lived. It reached its apogee and plummeted, landing safely in the uppermost branches of an evergreen tree.

Zeb and Puggles rushed up to Pa. He was pounding his fists on the tractor’s console and making all kinds of noise. 

“Now pa,” Puggles said bravely. “Don’ be too hard on old Zeb. He wuz only tryin’ to hep yew out. I mean he almost kilt ya, gave yew a heart attack and scared thee beard offa yew but it twernt his intention. I think ten lashes wid Ol’ Skinner is fair, and mebbe make him go t’ bed wit no supper. I’m real hungry and the Great Bearded One knows I kin use thee extra nur-ish-mint.”

“Puggles!” Zeb shouted.

Pa shook his head and laughed. “Whut in Muddlin iz yew babblin' ‘bout son? That ride wuz GREAT! I ain’t had so much fun since I wuz a cub! Whoo-wee! That beat a rolly-coaster by a mile. Course I tore up half thee homestead but who cares! What a thrill!”

Zeb side-eyed Puggles, a wide smirk stretching across his purple face. He looked very much like the tooka that ate the tweety-killow. Puggles was astonished.

“Yew mean yew ain’t mad at Zeb!? After all that??”

“Mad? Hells no. I’m gonna be the envy of th’ holler wid this here tractor. Zeb, yew iz gettin’ an extra portion a dumplings tonight. Yew too Puggles. Thanks for hepping him out.”

“Uh, yer welcome?”

Pa came down off the tractor, wobbling slightly. He pulled out his wallet and handed Puggles a jumble of credits. “Yew two go down to the bar and play some pocketball on me. Stay away for umm, bout an hour, y’ hear?”

Puggles protested. “But Pa, I’m hungry!”

Zeb suddenly remembered Pa’s face at the bedroom window. He recalled that the house was devoid of Trodds, save Rufus and Sadie, and came to a quick conclusion that it wasn’t sleep that he and Puggles had interrupted. He grabbed his cousin’s skinny arm. “Come on ugly, I feel like beating you in pocketball.”

“Iz yew serious? I’z a champ at it!”

“Prove it.”

Rufus let his son and nephew hash it out. He cantered toward the house, a spring in his usually heavy step. He bent and swiped a handful of wildflowers and fluffed out his facial hair. He whistled a merry tune appropriately called ‘Farmer Cogg’s Little Red Tractor.’ 

The field could wait.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this was a blast to write.Thanks to anyone who stops by to read. Thanks again Findswoman for combing through this monstrosity and finding all my boo-boos.


End file.
